


The Crossroads I'm Standing At

by Mourningbirds



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Sexual Tension, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25822909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mourningbirds/pseuds/Mourningbirds
Summary: At some point during the night they’d each pulled off their shoes and a few clothes and found their way under the covers. Once the initial bout of drunken sleepiness had worn off they’d been restless. Tossing and turning until finally Steve’s knee had landed against the side of Javi’s bare thigh.
Relationships: Steve Murphy/Javier Peña
Comments: 24
Kudos: 111





	The Crossroads I'm Standing At

**Author's Note:**

> So I didn't plan on writing this but I fell down a Steve/Javi rabbit hole and my hand slipped. This is unbeta'd and unedited. Title is from Mama You Been On My Mind by Bob Dylan. 
> 
> Come visit me on Tumblr [mourningbirds1](http://mourningbirds1.tumblr.com)

Javi had let Steve take the aisle seat. He was asleep now, the lucky bastard. Javi never could sleep on planes. Flying made him nervous. 

He’d never admitted that to anyone and knew he hid it well. But just before take-off, Steve had been flicking through the in-flight magazine and had said, casual as you like, “Keep grinding your teeth like that and you’re gonna ruin that panty-droppin’ smile of yours.” Then he’d given Javi’s hand a couple of pats, where it had been gripping the armrest. 

And had he lingered just a little longer on the second pat before letting his fingers trail across the back of Javi’s hand and picking up his plastic cup of Scotch? Yeah. Maybe.

He hadn’t seemed to notice Javi’s nerves on the flight out. But after a week spent sharing a room in a Medellín hotel, Javi had started to notice things about Steve, too.

Like the way he looked in the mornings; rumpled and soft with sleep. Unable to get out of bed until Javi had shoved a cup of shitty hotel coffee into his hand. 

Javi was a light sleeper and an early riser. Easily disturbed by nervous energy, a nicotine craving or a nightmare. He’d sit up in bed, smoking his morning cigarette and listen to Steve mumbling in his sleep, _No, Connie… I gotta go to the library… meet mister potato head._

And, Jesus, his weird fucking eating habits. Ketchup on everything. Sending back his steaks until they were overcooked to his liking. It was embarrassing. 

He’d noticed his smell. Javi wore cologne (Paco Rabanne). Steve just smelled of soap and whatever laundry detergent Connie used. Javi wondered what it was. Could probably sneak a look next time he saw Connie in the laundry. Yeah, maybe he’d do that. 

But at the end of a long day spent staking-out the cartel conference, Steve would smell of something else, too. Warm skin and salty perspiration. It had become comforting, but only in the way that any familiar thing does when you’re far from home. 

Javi turned to look at Steve as he slept. He was snoring softly, his head propped on Javi’s rolled up jacket (Steve had packed his own in his checked baggage, the idiot). The line of his jaw with its shadow of dark blond stubble. The slope of his nose that would be a little too long on anyone else but fit just right on Steve’s big, dumb face.

Javi rubbed his own jaw. He should have shaved that morning but he and Steve had spent too long talking. Sitting next to each other on Javi’s bed, a little closer than they would have done a week before. Javi hadn’t wanted to relinquish the moment. Their last few minutes alone before going to the airport. Their last chance to bridge the gap that had been narrowing in fits and starts over the week, not least during the previous few hours.

They’d shared a bed on their last night in Medellín. Both so drunk that they’d collapsed on Javi’s bed after dinner. It was nearest the door. 

At some point during the night they’d each pulled off their shoes and a few clothes and found their way under the covers. Once the initial bout of drunken sleepiness had worn off they’d been restless. Tossing and turning until finally Steve’s knee had landed against the side of Javi’s bare thigh. Javi hadn’t pulled away. He knew Steve was awake because he wasn’t snoring. So Javi had laid still, feeling his cock harden at the thought that not only had Steve chosen to leave his leg there, but he'd also chosen to stay in Javi's bed instead of returning to his own perfectly good bed that was just a couple of feet away. 

After that they continued their sleepless shifting but always there was a part of their bodies touching, like they’d made some silent agreement when Javi hadn’t pulled away from that first touch. 

The edge of Javi’s hand against Steve’s back that felt warm through his t-shirt. Steve’s elbow against Javi’s bicep. Javi’s bent knee against Steve’s hip. Neither of them brave enough to do anything other than touch _accidentally_. Nothing that could be construed as deliberate when examined in the cold light of day. 

And then daylight had come and the agreement was broken. Javi had sat up and smoked his cigarette then went to shower while Steve laid in bed. 

When Javi should have been shaving he’d instead sat on the bed next to Steve, making banal, distracted conversation. Giving him one last chance to make a move, but he hadn’t taken it. 

The seatbelt light clicked on and a flight attendant walked the aisle making her checks. She was a statuesque, dark-haired woman, softly-spoken and calm, “I’m sorry sir, I need to wake your companion and ask him to fasten his seatbelt ready for landing.”

“It’s okay, I got it, ma’am,” said Javi. He reached over and carefully gathered Steve’s seatbelt around his hips. Steve stirred a little and made a contented noise when Javi’s hand brushed over his soft belly but then he went right back to sleep. 

Javi looked up at the flight attendant and they shared an amused look of forbearance, _this guy, huh?_

Steve slept through the landing. Javi woke him up with a little shake on his forearm, “We’re here. Wake up and gimme back my jacket.”

Steve straightened up, “I wasn’t asleep.” His voice scratchy and hoarse. _Fuck,_ Javi would think about that sound later. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

They left the plane, collected their bags and walked to the parking lot to find Steve’s car. Javi switched the radio on to find some music. The Eagles were singing about country roads. That would do; neutral enough. But then Bob Dylan came on and Javi sat on his hands, impossibly stiff as though if he stayed still enough and concentrated hard enough he could change the channel with the power of his mind,

_When you wake up in the mornin', baby, look inside your mirror_

_You know I won't be next to you, you know I won't be near_

_I'd just be curious to know if you can see yourself as clear_

_As someone who has had you on his mind_

The song ended and Javi rolled down the window. _Fuck, it was getting hot._ He couldn’t wait to get home and stand under a cold shower. 

They made it back to the embassy apartment block and stood facing each other in the hallway, sighing in that way people do as a precursor to saying goodbye. They weren’t really huggers. Had never needed to be - they were never apart for long enough to warrant it. 

_Screw it,_ he thought as he raised his arms. Then Steve raised his too and they were hugging. Chests pressed together, then Javi shuffled forward until their hips were touching, too. It went on for quite a long time. _How long do men hug for?_ He had no clue. Maybe Steve knew. Yeah, Steve would let go when it was too long. When it got weird. Steve didn’t let go. Neither did Javi. 

Instead, Steve tilted his face down into the crook of Javi’s neck and let his lips rest there. Javi felt the scratch of Steve’s moustache and his warm, damp breath against the sensitive skin of his neck. Javi’s cock twitched in his jeans against Steve's hip. 

Someone walked into the hallway, breaking the spell. They quickly parted and began making their way into their respective apartments. 

It was one of the senior secretaries from the embassy. “Hi fellas, good trip?”

“Yeah, not bad.” Steve’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. He glanced at the back of Javi's head, “Got some nice new intel.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [mourningbirds1](http://mourningbirds1.tumblr.com) on tumblr  
> 


End file.
